Black and White Soul
by BlackInkedPen
Summary: Viola, due to being deprived of her memories, felt hollow and detached to the point that she thought she never felt any emotions. In her journey with Z.W.E.I., she learned that memories are not based on images while emotions can be fragments of memories as well. ZWEI x Viola. 1st POV. Oneshot.


_Author's Note:_

_This is a gift fic for CorycianAngel1944. I promised to give a fic with a Christmas theme. Unfortunately, I had been smothered in busy schedule then. So, to make up for that, here is a fic with a theme of warmth (per request)._

_I hope you like this._

_Disclaimer: This is a fan fiction. I don't own Viola or Z.W.E.I._

_-0-_

**BLACK AND WHITE SOUL**

-0-

I remember the time when a boy sitting with a canvas in front of him piqued my curiosity. He was sketching a picture with just a charcoal pencil. I stood behind him and wondered as he imitated the flowers in front of him with just the color black. The painting did look like the flowers it was supposed to capture but it felt like there was something missing. I kept gazing back and forth at the spectacle he was copying and its replica. I blurted my finding, "It lacked color."

The boy gazed up at my standing posture and looked at me queerly.

"Ofcourse," he said. "This is a charcoal sketch."

I never forgot that oddity for another time, while I was in business foretelling curious people a glimpse of their fortune, I heard one minstrel teaching another fellow his art as the other held a lute.

"No, no, no!" he said similarly as when I told the boy with the charcoal pencil in dissatisfaction. "Your music lacked color. It is as plain as dough. It is terribly wanting of emotion."

While I never thought about how a bard could put emotion into the strumming of the lute or the awkward bellowing of his mouth, the logic of what he said struck me and kept me in wonder for many months: he equated emotion with color. Based from my experience with the eccentric boy with the charcoal sketch, I know that having no color deprives a picture a significant portion.

What about emotion? When one is deprived of it, what is one lacking?

-0-

I was interrupted from my thoughts when I heard a manly voice from in front of me.

"Viola, watch your steps. The rocks can be slippery."

I looked at the objects he was pertaining to. They stood bordering the once quiet streams but now raging violently. They appeared round, smooth and glistening. I didn't have to consult my crystal ball to know that what he spoke of was true. His voice and his warning were enough for me. I, then, shifted my eyes up to him, seeing his reassuring look.

He was Z.W.E.I. His odd name spelled like the initials of something was a mystery which he never divulged. Set aside his queer name, he stood confidently feet apart above two grey, round rocks like a statue of a divine being. His regal face, his silk-like black hair with patches of silvery strands, his tall stately body, mired with no imperfections made all the ladies he passed by to swoon at him. I didn't understand their senses because to me, he was just plainly good to look at. He was trustworthy and dependable more importantly. And those are the two main reasons why I permitted him to stay with me.

I heeded his precautions as we crossed from one side of the stream to the other. I stepped carefully at those rocks that protruded above the water level but my inexperience with this kind of terrain bested me.

"W-whoa!" I stammered as uncertainly as my footing. My right foot almost slipped and almost sent me to an unexpected bath. Luckily, I regained my balance. I looked up at him again and heard him call out to me, "Careful there!" as he started walking back to me.

I shook my head in defiance, the scarlet hood over it nearly falling down to my back, while I extended my hand to stop him.

"There's no need to do that," I said confidently as I planted my left foot on another stone. "I can do— uh!"

My left foot had slipped and I started descending to my right side when I felt his strong hand pull me abruptly and I jerked forward. My head collided with his chest while I felt his arms on my back, firmly holding me and preventing my fall. With my ear next to his chest, I could hear his heart beating fast and violently in excitement. Before this, I had never been this close to a man. I could feel the cold brought about by the breezes around me diminishing even as the breezes persisted on.

"Are you alright?" he asked gently.

"I... I am. I'm— I'm alright," I stammered, unsure of what to say.

My hands on his chest slowly drifted away as I tried to build some distance from him.

"Go on ahead," I commanded him. "I'll follow behind."

He took one step ahead but he grabbed my hand steadfastly. I stared at his hand in mine questioningly. It felt odd. My hand erupted in tingled sensations as it touched his.

"What are you doing?" I queried him.

"Just making sure you aren't going to fall."

"But I'm not—" I started in protest but his face staring back at me said strongly that I cannot win him over by debate this time. I yielded and permitted his hand to maintain his grip on mine as he led me to the other side of the stream.

"Steady," he coaxed me. "Steady."

As soon as both of us were on solid and dry ground, I took my liberty of maintaining distance from him. The previous encounter was awkward and uncomfortable.

"Come, we must continue," he called as I lumbered behind him, trees to my right and the stream on my left. I could hear the cries of sea gulls nearby and smell the salty aroma within the wind; the sea was close by. As we trudged on, my mind drifted to the earliest memory I can remember.

A deserted town, ravaged violently and burnt—in the midst of it, I awoke with no memory of my past or my identity. The crystal ball lay beside me. When it glowed the moment I touched it, I assumed that it was mine to possess. It gave me a window to the whole world, able to see it in different angles: the past, the present and the future. It was a powerful tool, indeed, and it gave me my trade. However, while I could look into everything in a man or woman, I found out that it showed me nothing of importance about myself: my past and my identity.

Knowing everything about others and nothing about oneself gave me the feeling as if I am just a spirit in the human world, an empty vessel. I am just an audience in a play but never its actor. I am but an observer and never a participant. Even if I stir long and hard, there would be no ripples produced around me. With this in mind, I felt desire to be of no importance. Sympathy was like an exquisite jewel in the hands of someone alone and hungry in the desert. Emotion was an unnecessary luxury.

I do feel. That is, either I'm bored or I'm not.

However, since I have no point of comparison in my barren memory, whenever I see people in all their states of emotions, they never felt real to me. I see no sense in their useless expressions. They are but squandering of time and energy.

-0-

Z.W.E.I. abruptly stopped as we marched on the golden sandy beach. The sun was close to the sea and was glowing a red color. He stared at it with the intent of a man examining a painting. I stood next to him eyeing him questioningly as to the reason for this unnecessary delay. He seemed to have read my thoughts as he placed both palms at the back of his head.

"Let's take a break," he answered my unsaid question. "I just want to watch this moment when the sun sinks down into the sea."

"We have to reach town before it gets dark," I countered.

"Oh, c'mon," he said lazily at first and then emphatically. "How many times would you get this experience? You have that ball of yours to guide us to town when its dark and I have Ein and my blade to fend of anybody who has the guts to come at us. But this? This is worth more than any inns in town."

I didn't understand any of the words he said. How could something not worth anything be worth more than any inn? Besides, I could show him sunsets like this from anywhere in the world through my crystal ball. Nevertheless, I sat down on the sandy shore as he did so.

Never taking off those eyes of his from the sun and its reflection on the sea below it, he said, "What I love about the sea is that it drowns anything that sinks in it: the sun, the stone you throw into it, sailors from a wrecked ship and even your problems."

I never made an attempt to reply. He was talking nonsense.

"Whenever I watch the sea, some peaceful feeling washes up on me. Add the sun to give it a reddish glow and 'poof', everything goes magical. The feeling's serene and heavenly."

He nudged me with his huge arm roughly. "How about you? What do you feel?"

I answered with all honesty, "Bored."

He chuckled and gave a small laugh. He was queer after all. He asked a question and I gave him an answer. What was there to laugh about?

He shook his head as he smiled wryly. "You know, sometimes you have to spice up things and add color to them. You can't live all gloomy your whole life. That's just sad."

"That's fine. I can never feel them anyway."

He mumbled something which I never picked up for in my boredom, I started turning about, searching for something stimulating. That was when I spotted something oddly familiar, although I can never recall where I had seen them before. Behind us were shrubs of white lilies and red roses. I rose from my seat and headed towards these plants. Sands sputtered behind me as I walked, my shoes digging and throwing them off. Soon, the sands were behind me and I was walking on dirt and grass.

I keenly inspected them as soon as I got near them. The lilies were like bright white stars drooping down and facing the ground with centers of golden yellow straws. The roses were exquisite and delicate, deep red in color and seemed to harmonize with my mood. Both of these flowers stirred me up from my boredom.

It seemed to me that I discovered something familiar since I awoke that day and knew that I had lost my memory. I knew somehow that the place where I was born was something similar to this: a place where lilies and roses grew. But that was all. I never recalled any image or sounds.

I just knew.

As I examined them, the charcoal sketch of the odd boy surfaced in my mind. I thought: what if my eyes would only see these flowers in black and white? The lilies would remain white; however, I would never know the richness of the rose's red color. I would only see it as gray or shades of black. I decided :it would be unfortunate for someone to see the world in black and white.

Suddenly, a shadow shaded the colors of these plants in my thoughts. It was Z.W.E.I. Again, he was smiling wryly at me. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"I am observing the color of the roses and lilies," I replied. "It seemed that one would never know their true beauty if all one can see is black and white."

"Yes, indeed. That is so."

"I've discovered that these flowers remind me of my past."

"Oh? Do you recall any images?"

"No. Just feelings."

"And what is that?"

I stopped. Suddenly, I was not on any of the opposite poles of boredom. These roses and lilies did remind me of my past. They reminded me of how I felt then. It reminded me of loneliness and homesickness. It reminded me of an identity that I once had but never now. I blinked the stinging sensation in my eye. As I squeezed my eye shut, one single drop of moisture came sliding down my cheek.

My hand slowly and hesitantly reached for that tear. Before it even reached my face, his thumb was already there to wipe it off.

"Loneliness," I whispered. "I feel lonely."

He smiled sympathetically, a smile that transmitted ease and relief from pain.

"That's okay," he replied. "That is what I'm here for."

Like a blind man receiving his sight for the first time, I now saw glimpses of color.

-0-

**The END**

-0-

_Author's Note: There. It's done. I'm not acquainted with either of the two and so I had difficulty at first in trying to imagine their personalities. Also, this is actually my first time at first person view. You know what? It was fun and challenging. I hope you all enjoyed this as much as I did in writing this. Bye!:)_


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